Smolder
by LawAndBensler
Summary: "When love warps into hate, there is nothing you won't do. That's why I signed the divorce papers. I didn't want Kathy to ever regret me." The statement hits her like a freight train. Her fingers tighten around the paper cup and her chest feels like caving in. Because the man sitting next to he just become an entirely different person. A completely single person. (Post-Burned)


**Smolder**

Post-Burned. The EO stoop conversation is so underrated...so I expanded on it. Just a one shot, expect angst. Shout out to Grace, Molly and Leslie for their continued support (pushing) and editing.

Fic song – Slow Dancing in a Burning Room (John Mayer)

* * *

Her skin is on fire. The flames are licking up her legs, searing into her skin. She is swatting at the blaze but it only seems to fuel the fire. It's covering her arms now, moving closer up to her face. She can feel her clothes melting into her flesh. The pain is indescribable. She's been shot, stabbed, punched. It is nothing compared to this white-hot pain.

She's struggling to open her eyes before she realizes they are open and there is nothing but blackness. Dark, deep and she's alone. She is going to die. And she is going to be alone. Her lungs are crushing under the weight of the smoke. Every breath becomes more difficult. She's choking, sputtering as her oxygen is quickly stripped away. It's drowning her and she's on dry land. When she opens her mouth to scream, there is only one word that comes to her mind, _Elliot._

Her head suddenly feels so heavy. She's fading. And fast. The smoke is making her dizzy. She can no longer feel her legs, her entire body is collapsing into warmth. Her fingertips are tingling. Cop instincts kick in and she musters up every last bit of energy she can to cry out to her partner. _Elliot..._

The sound of her own voice screeching jolts her awake. She bolts upright in bed, blinking several times in the darkness before she is able to take in her surroundings. Sometime during the night, she'd thrown the covers from the bed but she is still covered in a sheen of sweat.

She shoves her sweaty bangs back from her head. Her mouth is dry. Her throat is raw. Her head drops between her drawn up knees.

She resolved weeks ago that no matter how bad the case is, she can't continue to dream of him. She allowed herself a little leeway in Oregon, with no real friends, no solid ground, she allowed her mind to drift to thoughts of him. Of Elliot. But she always stopped herself before she reached the cliff of danger. The one that bordered on un-partnerly thoughts.

She's underneath the spray of a cold shower only seconds later. It's the cold, the solitude of the shower that gives her clarity. She knows what this thing is, she's known for some time now why her and Elliot have so much tension. And she knows she's screwed. She wants him. It's as simple as that, yet infinitely more complicated. She wants him with her. Around her. In her. He's married, _married_. Sometime between sleeping in a cold compound in the drizzle of Oregon and getting wacked in the head by a cop, she realized she missed him. But it wasn't in the way that she should miss a friend. No, she longed for him, ached to be walking side by side with him. Sometimes she would walk down the streets of Oregon and swear she could feel him next to her. Their steps in perfect alignment, actions synchronized. She'd turn quickly to find herself alone and a pang would run through her chest, her breath would catch and she had to fight the urge not to sink down onto the nearest wall and cry.

When she came back she expected everything to change. She would never admit it out loud, but a part of her wanted him to fall apart when she was in Oregon. Hell, she did and she was able to come to the conclusion she was shit without him. She was full of nervous energy the entire plane ride back to NYC and took the cab straight to the squad room only to find some blonde in her chair, at her desk, calling herself Elliot's partner. She spent her night alone with a bottle of red wine, while unbeknownst to her, he was off shoving his tongue down the blonde's throat.

Now he barely looks at her. They haven't had a real conversation in weeks. And then he says things like "I'm the longest relationship you've ever had with a man." He's twisting the knife into her chest again and it fucking hurts because he's right but he's so wrong. Because treating each other like a verbal punching bag is not a relationship. And if they were in a relationship, when he acted like a hardheaded fool, she would be able to ball up his t-shirt in her fists and kiss him hard to shut him up. But no, they are in a limbo. Because he hasn't signed the divorce papers but she swears deep down he realizes this thing too, that somewhere along the lines the term 'partner' came to mean entirely something deeper between them.

Minutes later, she's out of the shower and out the door, her hair in a messy bun and a few sweatshirts on to ward off the chill.

The cart on the corner sells her coffee and some tea with a big flower in it. She wasn't even sure what it was when she ordered it, but Elliot thinks she's changed in Oregon. He just hasn't realized the change had nothing to do with health foods and everything to do with her feelings toward him. But it's another thing that actually gets him to talk to her, so she continues to buy the tea. Even though this one tastes like grass.

She sits on his stoop for 10 minutes before she has the courage to text him to come downstairs. Not because she doesn't want to see him, because what she really wants is to come upstairs, to him. She erases the text that says _I brought you coffee. Can I come up_? Then decides against knocking on his door at 4am.

"Is that flower in your cup?" He's plopped down next to her on the cold stoop steps. Right next to her. So close he is almost touching her, but it typical Stabler fashion, just far enough away to maintain his distance.

"It's tea." But her voice comes out weaker than she wanted it to.

"You're serious about that, aren't you?"

"I couldn't sleep." It's a lie, she could sleep. She just dreamt that she was dying in the same fiery hell Valorie went through. But she isn't willing to offer up that information to him.

"Me neither"

"Valorie Sennate wasn't raped. She was sleeping with a law firm investigator. She really put her husband through the ringer."

"She died 20 minutes ago." It's sad that at this point in her career, she figured that would happen. It doesn't even come as a surprise anymore.

"She knew that she was going to die and she still lied to my face." There are tears pricking her eyes now and she's sure she's past the point of exhaustion. She's simultaneously upset a victim lied to her, yet here Elliot is finally, finally talking with her and the entire situation is beyond fucked up.

"When love warps into hate, there is nothing you won't do. That's why I signed the divorce papers. I didn't want Kathy to ever regret me."

The statement hits her like a freight train. Her fingers tighten around the paper cup and her chest feels like caving in. Because the man sitting next to he just become an entirely different person. A completely single person.

"That's a step in the right direction, Elliot." The words tumble quickly out of her mouth, completely bypassing any filter of her brain. Now she has officially made a fool of herself. For 8 years she's encouraged his marriage, reminded him to call his wife, even finished his DD5's so he could make it home for dinner.

He's silent at her words, he won't even look at her and the tension just rose several notches between them.

In a last ditched effort she asks him if they are ok.

"I…I just…need space to disagree with you so that I don't feel like it's going to cost me our partnership." He's calling her out directly for requesting a new partner after Gitano, she knows this. But she isn't going to acknowledge it.

"You've never been gun shy before." She thought she was the only one who changed after Oregon but that's not the case. He's suddenly running from this thing. When just months ago, her entire world came crashing down in the moment she was staring at the barrel of the gun pressed into his temple. When he told her that her and this job were the only things he's got, she suffocated under the weight of the notion that, it looked like he might see her as more than a partner. And she ran because that scared the shit out of her. First to computer crimes and when that wasn't far enough, across the country to Oregon. Months in the forest were cleansing and it was almost like she came back ready to face this thing head on. Whatever happened in those months, with Dani, with Kathy, they changed him too. But not for the better, she thinks. It's his turn to flee.

"Yeah well…things change." He glances at her flower filled cup as he says it and she has the sudden urge to throw it into the street.

"Well like you said, you're the longest relationship that I've ever had with a man. Who else would put up with me?" She lifts her voice at the end, forcing the joke tone to come through but her stomach twists as she says it. And God, she thinks she sounds pathetic declaring that without him she is truly, utterly alone.

"You hungry?" 

The car ride to the diner is deathly silent. She's got one statement running through her mind, "when love warps into hate." She lets it rolls around on her tongue for a while, dissecting. The concept isn't new to her, no, she's seen it a thousand times in her line of work. But for the first time, she starts applying it to them. Is that what happened? Is that the straw that broke the camel's back today? Because deep, deep down, she thinks its might be possible that she loves him, even just a little. But dear God, she hates his stubborn ass just the same. And that's it, isn't it? They will always be this volatile, this destructive toward each other.

Her head falls to rest on the window. "You ok over there?" He glances over at her from the driver's seat.

"It's…I'm fine El." He is still looking at her. His eyes are concentrated on her face, his brow furrowed as if he is searching for something. He won't seem to look away and it's making her antsy. She wants to squirm. Instead she settles for brushing her bangs away with the back of her hand. "Eyes on the road Elliot."

"The haircut."

"What?" She has no idea what he's talking about but she's already annoyed.

"Your haircut. The bangs. I like them."

She doesn't reply but just lets out a sigh and continues to stare out the window.

She wonders if he knows that when she doesn't respond it isn't because she has nothing to say, but that she there is too much on her mind. Things like 'I've been wondering if you even noticed' and 'I cut it just for you' fly into her brain but she clamps her mouth shut to keep from blurting any of it out.

The remainder of the car ride is silent. 

The diner is nearly deserted at this hour except for some obviously drunk tourists and the homeless man in the corner sipping coffee.

They take a seat across from each other in the booth while a tired looking waitress drops menus on their table without saying a word. He orders the biggest breakfast they have, while she only orders soup. She was full of curves before she left for Oregon. Now her cheeks are just a touch hallow and her shoulders slump a little more. He wants to say something. He wants to tell her to eat. But a larger part of him feels like that part of their partnership no longer exists.

She can tell he is lost in thought. She has been staring at the soggy carrots of her soup for the past 5 minutes, but she can feel his eyes on her staring somewhere between the hallow of her neck and her collar bone. She knows he is concerned about her weight. He might not have said it out loud, but he eyes her suspiciously every time they have a meal together now. Occasionally he silently slides a left over donut across the desk to her, where it goes uneaten for days until Munch tosses it.

His frustration gets the best of him "Take a bite, Liv."

"What happened with Dani Beck?" She murmurs without looking up from her soup. His fork drops onto his plate with a loud clang. Her words come out of nowhere and she isn't even sure what sparked this particular line of questioning.

"Liv…" Her name comes as a warning. She knows she shouldn't be asking questions she doesn't want the answers too. Elliot rubs a hand over his face.

"Just…I have a right to know." Her voice doesn't hold the confidence she longed for when she spoke.

"Tell me why you went to computer crimes."

She instantly retaliates. "I told you it was complicated."

"That's bullshit, Liv, and you know it."

She's unsure of how to answer him. When she thought she was going to die, or worse, that she was going to end up killing him, she wanted nothing more than to tell him he is her entire world. She has no one, is no one, without him. Outside the hospital room, she nearly suffocated on his words. He picked her over the job and it left a child dead-and yet here he is telling her that he has nothing more than him and the job? She can't be responsible for him like that, no matter what she feels for him. So she let him go. Isn't that the saying, right? 'If you love something let it go.' And she did.

"I couldn't be around you…like _that_." She unintentionally emphasizes 'that' and immediately recognizes her mistake. She only hopes he doesn't see it as well.

"Like what?" He doesn't miss a beat.

"Elliot, please." The words come out in almost a whine. She drops her head until her bangs cover her eyes. If he can't see her eyes, she can disappear, right? This booth can swallow her whole and she won't have to feel Elliot's eyes boring into her. "Please don't make me say it."

His eyes narrow. "What did you mean 'like that'?"

She curses under her breath. "This really isn't the time or place." He's up from his seat now and moving now into the space next to her. He doesn't say a word before she speaks again. "I just…I felt a lot. More than I should." She feels her face flush as she says it and she is still looking down at her hands, hiding beneath the curtain of her hair.

"I kissed her." Her eyes squeeze shut at his outburst of a confession. Her stomach drops to the floor and she is instantly nauseous. Her silence is deafening. She begs herself to say something, anything. Because her lack of speech is confessing more than she ever intended. Somewhere in the distance a waitress laughs and she jumps at the noise.

Anyone walking by must think they are a mess. She looks defeated and small with her hands in her lap and her head hung low. He is sitting up, stiff as a board and he isn't looking to her, just staring straight ahead at the torn vinyl of bench. His fists clench and unclench beneath the table.

His Brooklyn accent comes out as he draws out her name, " _Olivia_." He is reaching for her now, like he did that night in the car in Jersey. His hand is going right toward the base of her neck before she pulls away, hard.

"Let me out." She's weak when she says it, her voice hardly above a whisper. She swears the air just got thicker in this place, the heat turned up 10 degrees. She thinks she's started sweating beneath her coat. Another wave of nausea churns in her stomach. "Elliot. Let. Me. Out." The second time she says it, she's more brash because she needs to get out of this stifling restaurant before she passes out. He is moving now and the second he is out of the booth; she is practically running for the door.

He's right behind her, throwing some money on the table for their unfinished meals. She's only out the door for a second before he catches up but she continues to walk away from him.

"Liv. Olivia!" He reaches out to catch her bicep while she is still in motion. He miscalculates, only catching the edge of her jacket while she simultaneously tries to rip her shoulder away. Her equilibrium is lost and she starts tumbling forward toward the sidewalk. His arm hooks quickly around her waist before she hits the ground. He could easy stop there and let her catch her balance, but he hauls her back up against his chest.

"Let me go Elliot." She growls but he doesn't move. Her back is pinned against him in the middle of the sidewalk. Her shirt has slipped up in the process of falling and his fingers are splayed just below the hemline. Goosebumps break out along her abdomen and suddenly she's grateful he's holding her up because she just became overwhelmingly lightheaded.

His voice is in her ear then from behind, his face right next to her. "Why does it bother you that I kissed Dani?" He's practically growling when he says it and as angry as she is at his words, the warmth of his breath ignites something within her. She wants nothing more than to press backward into his groin. She's never been this physically close to him.

Instead she delivers a blow that she knows will cut him deep. She shouldn't say it just to spite him, but fuck it, she wants him to hurt. She doesn't owe him an explanation for her feelings. Not when he was given her so little over the years. "I slept with…." It's too much to tell him it was her FBI case agent. "…someone in Oregon." She winces as soon as the words leave her mouth.

He releases her then, without even making sure she has her balance back. His hand slips across her middle. She stumbles a little on her feet, realizing she must have been leaning onto him more than she thought. Her back is still facing him and she doesn't dare turn around. He's silent then but she can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

Still, she throws his own words back in his face. "Tell me why that bothers you?" She can feel his entire body stiffen behind her. He's completely silent, frozen and she isn't sure if he is still there. She doesn't dare turn around though and look him in the eye. She knows his look all too well; fists clenched, eyes narrowed.

It feels like minutes pass before she finally gives in to the silence. "I'm sorry."

"For sleeping with him?" He instantly bites back.

How dare he. She scoffs at his remark. "No, for telling you about it." She starts to walk away again, but this time he doesn't follow. It is only when she makes it to the car that she realizes he has the keys. She contemplates hailing a cab just to get away from him.

It isn't just his footsteps behind her that alert her to his presence. His cologne invades her nostrils and involuntarily her heart starts pounding at his proximity. She rests her hands on the car in front on her to cool the sweat that has gathered on her palms.

She realizes his proximity when his breath stirs her hair. The rest of him comes into focus. As she exhales, his back hits his chest. His feet are on either side of her. His right hand is twitching at his side and she begs every deity she can think of that he resists placing it on the car next to her. It takes him all of 5 seconds before his hands are next to hers on the car. Both his thumbs are touching her skin, just resting there.

The tension is palpable now.

"I can't keep doing this with you." He says the words into her hair. She drops her head.

"Then don't." She pushes back off the car, her back briefly coming in contact with his front. She flinches at the contact and attempts to recover by sidestepping him to get a cab. He reaches up to claim her wrist without bating an eye.

"Christ, Olivia. What do you want me to say? Do you even want me as a partner anymore? Is that what this is about?" She knows that tone of voice, the one with the slight strain. He's hurting….but she's on the edge of snapping. They've never talked this much, said this much. She's at the edge of a waterfall on the verge of going over. She's overwhelmed by all the emotions bubbling to the surface.

"I had feelings for you, ok?" She's grateful there is no one else around because she is suddenly yelling. "There, I said it." She grits her teeth. "After Gitano, I fucking realized I needed you around. It was pathetic. I'm alone, I've always been, I get it. I get that. And you went and kissed Dani so obviously you did just fine without me."

His hands go to her shoulders and this time she doesn't pull away. He wants to shake her into clarity. "Are you kidding me?" He is trying to control the volume his voice but there is still an edge to his words. "I tried Olivia. I fucking tried to call you. What did you think I meant when I said I only had you and this job? That's it Olivia. There is nothing else for me. You're…I don't know how to explain it. But…fuck this sounds cheesy, but it's like you're embedded in my soul. You left and I felt like a piece of me left too."

Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and she tastes salt. She didn't even realize she was crying. His thumbs comes up to wipe the tears from her lips. Her heart starts to pound wildly in her chest. It's painfully obvious now that tonight is going to change the course of the rest of their lives. "But Liv…I've thought about this. Don't think that I haven't. He died, Olivia. A boy died because I chose you. We can't…we can't have both. It's either me or the job. You know that."

"Don't…" Her voice is strained, barely above a whisper. He can't say these things to her. Tell her he has feelings. Tell her she has to choose. He can't. No matter what, he will always have his family. He can't give her 100% of him even if she gives him every last drop of her soul. And what happens when it doesn't work out? He goes right back to his kids, to his white picket fence in Queens. She isn't even sure she knows entirely who she is without this job, let alone without him as well. So she will always choose SVU. That's where they are in this world. Maybe in another time, another place, things would be different. And she would have found him earlier in life, in a different setting. They would be a hurricane of a relationship. Fighting, biting, kissing, making up. Her thoughts are careening wildly out of control. Images of late Sunday mornings in bed. White sheets wrapped around tangled legs. Cooking breakfast in his t-shirt. Coffee on the couch on rainy days. She could even imagine the small laughter of a little boy, maybe a girl. The nausea is back.

She blinks and the tears clear away, her vision comes back into focus. She's colder now. The chill of the wind soaking through her jackets. She isn't there with him in her arms. No, she's leaning back against the cold metal of the car and he's tall in front of her. And she knows this thing isn't going further than tonight. It's a harsh reality but it's one she will learn to live with, slowly. Because having him watching her back day by day is better than not having him in her life at all.

He leans in until his lips brush onto her temple. His cheek is pressed up against her face. He doesn't move, he doesn't kiss her, he just rests on her skin, breathing her in. She's openly sobbing into his jacket now. "I….I…" She's struggling to get the words out and as much as she wants to attribute it to her near hyperventilation, she knows deep down, it's because she can't bear to say those three little words out loud.

"I know Liv. Me too." His hands have woven into her hair now and her conscious tells her this is a bad idea. She will feel his hands for hours after they've left and it is going to hurt like a bitch. But right now, right now he's warm and safe and her soul is tired of fighting. He's worn her down, she thinks as she closes her eyes and leans back into his touch.

Her eyes are still closed as she feels the warmth of his lips leave her skin. She doesn't want to move, not yet. As soon as he steps away, as soon as they get back in the car, she knows it's over. No matter what they feel for each other, it doesn't matter. They will try their hardest to go back to the Benson and Stabler they once were. It will be like this night never happened. She's willing herself to open her eyes when she feels it. His touch is so feather light, she almost misses it, but it is there. His lips press softly into hers. Her stomach clenches at the possibility that this is happening and that it will likely never happen again. His lips nudge at her to move.

She huffs out a breath into his skin and he retaliates by swiping his tongue across her upper lip. She feels the frenzy begin to bubble to the surface as his tongue slips into the recesses of her mouth. He must feel it too because his fingers begin to tug at her hair like he wants her head to fall backward and her neck to exposes itself to her. Her teeth nip at his lip and that stops him. It's agonizing to feel him slip back into his personal space. She resists whimpering at the loss of contact.

The sigh that passes through his pursed lips is clearly a mixture of frustration and sorrow. "I'm…I shouldn't have." He's looking passed her now toward the traffic but he looks woeful and the emotional toll of the night is evident. She drops her eyes to her shoes, focusing on the scuffmark along the right toe.

"Don't. Just, take me home, El." She's resolving to lock this piece of her heart away. This piece that belongs to Elliot. Maybe it's her entire heart; who knows. But what she does know is she is putting these feelings in a little wooden box, locking it up and throwing the key into the Hudson. Better to never know the pain of the loss of true love…Isn't that how the saying goes? No, that isn't it at all. Better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all. Well fuck them. Those philosophers, the poets, or whoever they are. Because she can guarantee none of them loved a man as frustrating as Elliot Stabler.

He catches a piece of her hair before slowly tucking it behind her ear.

"I'm sorry I can't be more for you." He sounds wounded.

"Me too." She closes her eyes against his words so he can't see the tears start again.

***** 

_It's not a silly little moment_

 _It's not the storm before the calm_

 _This is the deep and dying breath of_

 _This love that we've been working on_

 _Can't seem to hold you like I want to_

 _So I can feel you in my arms_

 _Nobody's gonna come and save us_

 _You've pulled too many false alarms._

 _We're going down and you can see it too_

 _We're going down_

 _And you know that we're doomed_

 ** _My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room_**


End file.
